here, and left her to die on the sidewalks, like the veriest beggar.  No touch of pity for the child, no feeling of sorrow for the innocent angel, no thought of the patriot lingering in prison, ever entered the mind of the extortioner.  There was nothing but self then, nothing but the promptings of his own avarice, which could view with indifference the miseries of others, so long as they should redound to his own benefit and aggrandizement.  I tell you that man dare not deny a word I utter.  He knows that every one is true, and if my language could wither him with shame, could make him the detestation of the world, I would speak yet stronger, for pity to him is but contempt for those he has injured.

“Thus thrust out of home and shelter, the helpless mother conveyed her fainting child to a negro’s cabin and there revived it.  The next morning she once more called upon her accuser and petitioned him for help.  He again refused to aid her, although informed that the money was intended to procure medical aid for her sick child, until at last, wearied of her importunities, he handed her the pitiful sum of one dollar!  This was not sufficient for the purpose she desired, and she was about turning away in despair when her eye lit on a package of notes lying on the safe.  Remember, gentlemen, what I have told you.  She was penniless and friendless.  Her child was ill and she had no means to procure medical aid.  Her appeal for charity had been rejected, and can we blame her if she yielded to the tempter and took the money lying before her?  We cannot.  Look not on the act, gaze only on the provocation.  If in hearts there dwells a shade of pity, an acme of sympathy, you cannot return a verdict of guilty.  She is not guilty of theft!  I unhesitatingly assert, that if to act as she has, and under the circumstances she acted, be theft, then such a thief would I become to-morrow; and in my own conscience, of the opinions of the world and confident in the forgiveness of an Almighty Father, would I commit such a theft as she has—­just such an offence.  I pleaded ’not guilty,’ and it may surprise you that in the face of such a plea, I should acknowledge that she took the money.  Again I repeat my plea.  She is not guilty of theft, and to you who have hearts to you who sympathize with the sufferings of a soldier’s wife—­to you, whose wives and children may to-morrow be placed in a similar position—­to you, I leave a verdict.  But one word yet ere I am done.

“The money which she took, to what use was, it placed?  To purchase a coffin for her child!  To place the lifeless body of her daughter in its last home ere it is covered by the dust—­this, and this only, was the good which accrued from it.  And, gentlemen, he—­Mr. Elder—­is the MURDERER of that child.  As such I charge him, and as such I brand him to be.  But for his brutality—­but for his avarice and selfish lust for gain, the mouldering corpse might now have been a blooming and happy child.  And yet another word.  When the so-called theft was discovered, and the accuser sought the accused, he found her by the bedside on which the dead child lay clothed in its last earthly garments.  Disregarding her entreaties, she was torn from the corpse, thrust into prison, and the humble and servile hands of the negro were left to perform those sad rites which affection is ever the first to do.  This is my tale, and—­”